Gathering Papa

I have your glasses. It feels like I have your eyes. I run my finger on its smooth glass, its frame, I wear it sometimes and try to see this world through your vision. It’s blurred. You had such high powered glasses. I ain’t that empowered. I can’t see this world through your wise and understanding eyes. That’s why my vision is blurred. I wish to be more like you, one day, some day. I gaze into those glasses, sit with them for hours. And suddenly, in between, I see your eyes gazing at me from behind them. They’re still the same. They are still kind and full of unconditional love for me. And they look at me with the same fondness.

I have your watch. It always sat on your wrist in your lifetime. I remember you falling asleep wearing them, I used to hold your hand and take it out softly, silently, not wanting to wake you up. You used to be so punctual. Liked to get things done on time. And Oh, how you hated the Late Lateefs. You know I am one too now. But you can never hate me. It’s kinda weird, I am so like you, but so unlike you. Sometimes I just pick your watch and tie it on my wrist. It feels like your hand is on mine. Like you have touched me with the same loving caress. I remember how you used to touch me, like I am a fragile thing. I remember your hands do well, soft, silky, a writers hand they were. I cringed every time you pierced your finger to check Sugar levels. What I would not give to hold them once again. You fed me when I was a lil girl, you fed me the day before you left.

I have your shoes. They have lost the shape of your feet now. But they are still your shoes. They got dusty and cobwebbed, I clean them, I avoid them too. I touch them sometimes, and I hug them and cry. I seek your blessings but they are with me all the time. Remember when your feet ached you asked me to sit on them, and then stand on them and then tell me to walk on them. I know they ached more because of diabetes. My toes are just like your toes. A bit crooked, the big toe longer than the thumb, haha. Mum used to get your pedicure done by force, but you enjoyed clipping nails. I wish I can fall at your feet and hold them, never letting go.

I got your perfume too. It’s lesser now, evaporated I guess. But that was the only accessory you loved to use everyday. I have taken after you in that field too. I have a huge perfume collection of my own, many are gifted by you, I use them sparingly. I added some new and exotic ones to my collection. But you know, sometimes I spray it in the air of my room, and I close my eyes. And in that moment you are in the room with me. I relive your moment of leaving for Chennai, the same perfume wafting in the air and you hugging me for a long minute, leaving with innumerable instructions to take care of me and mum, kissing me endlessly before parting. I feel that hug and those kisses in that perfume.

I have them all, your ties, your handkerchiefs, your shirts, your pen, your writing pad, your phone, your briefcase, your poems, your countless memories, I have them all Papa. But they, don’t make up for what you are to me. The void is still there, never to be filled again. A piece of my soul and my heart is gone with you. A piece of your soul and your heart lives in me. I cling to that part of me dearly. I miss you. I cried you a river. It didn’t lessen the pain. I still miss you soooo much. But I know that you aren’t far from me. You sit beside me as I write this. You watch me and your hand is on my head. Guess I have learned to live without your physical press. But every once in a while, my heart stirs, all reasons fade, all logic ends and all I want is you. A long talk with you as I sit hugging you with your arms around me, feeling safe, secure, loved, cherished, needed, pampered, spoiled, treasured, protected, guided, valued, admired, elevated, exhilarated, exalted and what not.

Piecing you together is a desperate attempt of a still grieving daughter. This grief and this regret of losing you will never leave me. But I have just one solace. That I loved you back with all my heart. And I still love you, and will continue to do so till I breath my very last. You’re immortal till I live. I won’t let you die. And so I live to keep you alive. They say tears are love, when it gets so much that it spills from the eyes. Then I am glad I am crying right now. You are the best father any girl could have asked for. I wish to have you for my father in all my lives. But once, just once I wanna be your mother and shower back all that love on you that you gave me.

Happy Father’s Day Papa. It feels so good to take your name. I love you. I miss you. I am okay.

PS : For those who read it, I had to control myself and stop, or I can write volumes about him. I request you to understand the emotion behind it and ignore its length.

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